


Friendly Neighborhood Carta Kidnapping

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: Paragon of Their Kind 2020 Exchange [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Carta dwarves with hearts of gold, Domestic Fluff, Dorian Pavus is a Nerd, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Slavery, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Dorian Pavus is very irritated that a scholar he wished to hire has been contractually signed to another Magister.Roland Cadash never really cared for contracts.
Relationships: Male Cadash/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Series: Paragon of Their Kind 2020 Exchange [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036824
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: 2020 A Paragon of Their Kind Dragon Age Dwarf Exchange





	Friendly Neighborhood Carta Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightprelude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightprelude/gifts).



> I really hope you like this, Middy! <3

For the image of decadent nonchalance Dorian projected, Roland Cadash truly never met a man that worked harder in his life.

In truth, it was simply a scholar’s passionate zeal and lust for knowledge that drove him. Dorian would pursue his solutions to the mysteries of Thedas at all costs. In fact, Roland was certain that searching for truth had been what brought Dorian to the Inquisition in the first place.

Roland didn’t have the same noble goals when he followed Dorian to Tevinter. He hadn’t been looking for _anything_ , really, when he dragged his one-armed arse across the continent to Dorian’s cozy little villa in Minrathous.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t _found_ something. In fact, Roland found out some things he _never_ expected to find out.

First, Tevinter cuisine wasn’t half bad.

Second, he could get _very_ used to living the rest of his days in cheerful semi-retirement with the love of his life.

Semi-retirement was the key, though. You could take the man out of the Carta, apparently, but you couldn’t ever quite make him reputable.

“So then I told this nuglicker if he wanted to see _who_ could shoot straight, I needed five pints of ale to give him a sporting chance,” Roland continued, mostly to himself, although the sack in the wagon behind him twisted and huffed irritably.

“So of course I chugged my five pints of ale, because I like my competitions fair. Stole a bow and kicked his ass. _Then_ I stole his purse and kissed his lass because I never liked assholes very much.”

The kidnapped academic in the sack made a disgruntled noise that _almost_ sounded like an accusation that Roland was, in fact, also an asshole.

“I don’t want to hear any complaining,” Roland declared cheerfully, snapping the reins with his one hand as they paraded down the broad avenues of Minrathous.

In the middle of the day, the city was absolutely _bustling_. The closest thing he could think to compare it to was Val Royeaux, but even _that_ seemed lacking. Merchants hawked wares on every corner. Grimy children dashed in front of his placid mule as his cart creaked along. Music and conversation spilled out of stylish cafes and upscale shops with little stalls shoved between them for those too poor to afford prime real estate.

It was beginning to feel like home, even if there were things Roland didn’t care much for _at all_. It was thanks to Dorian’s education and network of spies that he recognized an infamous Magister, ruthless to his slaves, gliding into a cafe while his Elven entourage waited beside his coach.

Roland saw the cuts on their bodies and it still sparked anger in him that reminded him of a misspent youth brawling in taverns, but Dorian was right. Diving in with no plan simply because he was furious and starting a riot in the middle of the square wasn’t ideal.

The better option was to exploit the rotten core of the people in power, gather allies, and strike _strategically_. It wasn’t as fun as a bar brawl, but Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana would have approved in unison.

The Pavus Villa sat on a corner avenue, prime real estate or so he’d been told, with the gates flung wide open. People scurried in and out in a mishmash of traffic, like his new home was its own little city. It certainly _felt_ that way, somedays, with as many little warrens and avenues as Ostwick and just as many people.

Except for the people who belonged in the household, mostly Dorian’s servants ( _servants_ , not _slaves_ since the death of Dorian’s illustrious and most likely scandalized father), apprentices, and friends, nobody knew the infamous Roland Cadash called this place home.

But, he was used to living in the shadows. Preferred it, in fact. That’s why he guided his mule around the back of the villa to the kitchen entrances. If anything, the chaos was even _more_ cozy and comforting in the back. The bustle was familiar to Roland, complete with cursing, off-tune singing, and the almost soothing cluck of chickens.

“My lord! You’re back!” A girl flew to the cart almost as soon as it was in the gate, reaching for the velvet muzzle of the mule and wrapping thin fingers around it while she looked up at him with a gapped tooth smile.

“So I am!” he declared, tossing the reins to her and diving into his pocket. “And I didn’t forget little miss, don’t you worry.”

He pulled out the delicate little cakes wrapped in sparkling foil from his pocket and presented it to her with a flourish. “As my lady requested.”

The impish grin on the child when she snatched them from his proffered hand made the fact he’d been outrageously overcharged for them a little better.

“Think you can take care of the cart for me, love? I got a delivery for the Magister.”

Roland swung down from the cart and walked to the back, rolling his shoulder. It was easy to thrust his remaining broad arm into the back and grab the bag, hoisting it in a manly display of strength.

Although academics were so thin, in general, he could probably fit two of them in a sack and carry them through the streets. Except, of course, for the annoying, muffled protests from within said sack.

“Your sack is wiggling,” the child observed, giggling. “Are they cats?”

“Can you imagine the trouble I’d be in if I brought another cat home?” Roland widened his eyes while the scholar began to swear into his gag. _Again_. Language quite unsuitable for children, really.

Thankfully, she laughed again and drowned out the cursing, so Roland simply shot her a wink and sauntered past into the kitchen.

The woman above the billowing cooking fire had a face red from the heat, sweat slicked curls stuck to her cheeks, but the neatest apron he’d ever seen. Her pointed ears just about trembled in aggrieved irritation when he crossed the threshold into her sanctuary.

He ought to know better than think he could sneak past Marielle in her own kitchen.

“I swear if that is going to make a mess on my floors, you’ll clean it up!” she shouted, grabbing another gangly teen running past before he could slip and fall in a slick spill of soap in front of her.

“Never _dream_ of it, ma’am,” he chuckled. Roland served up the sauciest smile he could summon, one always guaranteed to melt Marielle’s heart. “Your girl’s takin’ care of my mule for me.”

And just like magic, she did indeed soften. “She’s such a good girl… Do you know she’s got all her letters now? From the Magister? She sings them to me when I bake the bread.”

All the kids attended lessons. Sometimes, when he wasn’t busy with other matters, Dorian taught them himself. Roland always made sure to observe those classes in particular, so neat and orderly, so far removed from Roland’s own youth learning the proper way to stick a man between the ribs.

Sometimes, when Dorian beamed down at a clever pupil and praised them to the bleedin’ Maker and back, Roland wondered if it wasn’t a far cry from Dorian’s own cold, isolated childhood.

“Do you know where our fair Dorian is this evening?” he asked, hoisting the bag up on his shoulder with a grin. “I’ve brought him a gift.”

“In the study working through his supper, as usual,” Marielle sniffed, releasing her grip on the Elven boy with an affectionate pat.

Roland rolled his own eyes to the ceiling. “Right then. I’ll set him straight.”

Marielle called after him as he walked away. “See that you do!”

* * *

Roland never knew what he’d find in the study just off the library. It had been Dorian’s father’s, once upon a time, but those days had long passed. Instead, it now seemed to house the strangest and most exotic arcane curiosities Dorian could get a hold of. Enchanted objects littered every spare surface, including a mirror that hummed, a bubbling fountain surrounded by circling wisps, and myriad other things _everywhere_.

That wasn’t even touching on Dorian’s books. The man was incapable of walking past one, always stopping to pick them up, cradle them, and half the time bring them home with him. Even if it took him _months_ to read one.

At least the towering stacks made good spots for the two sleepy, bleary-eyed felines to recline on while Dorian took chalk to slate and drew expansive, elegant formulas. Roland watched for a moment while the man tapped his stylus against his cheek, pondering some difficult problem before lightly smudging out one symbol to replace it with one far more complicated.

Roland dropped the sack as gently as possible, but Dorian didn’t turn to the noise. Roland still caught just the hint of a smile beneath his mustache anyway. “Ah, you’ve returned. And what mischief have you gotten up to while you’ve been slacking?”

“Slacking?” Roland repeated.

“Indeed! I’m here working myself to the bone to save the world and you’ve taken the day off to do _what_ , exactly? What mysterious errand could have occupied our darling Cadash?”

“I was taking care of an annoyance. For _you_.” Roland folded his arms over his chest while Dorian tucked the chalk behind his ear and finally turned.

Dark eyes dropped to the wiggling sack on the ground before narrowing, flying back to Roland. “I swear if this is another mangy beast to laze around on my books I’ll-”

“I am _not_ a cat!”

Ah. Somebody had finally gotten the gag out of his mouth.

Dorian didn’t laugh, but even Roland could tell it was a close thing. His lips twitched with suppressed glee. “I demand an explanation, Roland.”

“You said you wanted that scholar from Magister Polaris. So. I got ‘im.”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “You _stole_ a scholar? For me?”

“I’ve been _kidnapped_!” the man in the sack cried out. “I demand to be released _immediately_!”

Dorian crossed the room while both cats stood and stretched, clearly intrigued by the commotion. One jumped lightly from the stacks to circle Roland’s legs with a rather affectionate meow.

The scholar that emerged from within was, truly, in rather decent shape for being shoved in the sack. His own stylish moustache was crooked, hair mused, robes disheveled. But, of course, he was completely unharmed.

Although Roland bet it stung to be overpowered and shoved in a sack by a one-armed dwarf.

“Magister Pavus, I must insist, the impropriety-”

“I know!” Dorian straightened to his full height, still smirking. “It’s absolutely _salacious_. Tell me, I must know, how _is_ working for Magister Polaris?”

The man had the good sense to swallow. Hard. “Magister Polaris is a fine, upstanding citizen of the Tevinter-”

“She is!” Dorian agreed genuinely. “And so _very_ bloodthirsty. Tell me, what sorts of things does she have you researching?”

The man wisely, this time, kept his mouth _shut_.

Roland settled himself in Dorian’s chair to watch the show, picking his cold tray of supper up and taking a bite of the still-delicious potatoes.

“Demon summoning is so passe, isn’t it? And the smell of sulfur, you never get it out of your clothes,” Dorian continued.

“Magister Polaris gave me the best offer for my services,” the Scholar murmured. “I am under contract.”

Roland laughed under his breath, stroking his knuckles over the other feline that came to investigate.

“Magister Polaris impolitely snatched you up before I could put my offer in. Luckily I have very little respect for contracts and I’m still prepared to offer my original payment schedule.”

A beat of silence. Another. Dorian’s eyes flicked to Roland’s and held them, glowing with delight. “Unless you truly believe demons are more enticing than the mysteries of the ages?”

The scholar wet his lips with his tongue, looking at Roland before looking back to Dorian. “You’ll protect me?”

“Safe as a babe in his mother’s arms, I assure you. Now, come along. Let’s get you set up.”

Dorian placed a gentle hand on the scholar’s back, guiding him to the study door, but paused at the desk to stroke long, tanned fingers down Roland’s beard. Roland tipped his face up expectantly.

“You are lucky it was not a cat, amatus.”

Roland smirked. “I know. Now kiss me.”

Laughing softly, Dorian obliged.

**Author's Note:**

> From Pornzammar with Love, [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/)


End file.
